First Strike
by ddjjm
Summary: Post-OOTP. Harry discovers a power he cannot understand at the Department of Mysteries.
1. First Contact

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or The Wheel of Time.

**A/N: **Well, another story. I will continue the other one as well, but I couldn't get rid of this one... This will take place entirely in the HP universe( / or in that age, if you prefer), so you won't meet with characters from WoT.

**Chapter 1: First Contact**

Harry desperately reached out for the void again. _We are surrounded! How could I be such a fool?_ Those thoughts didn't help him either. He could reach the void only once – right before his last Occlumency lesson with Snape. He knew he could think more clearly if he could dispose of his feeling, but the void refused to form. Every time he reached out, it collapsed before it could solidify. His bones ached from the failed attempts. His scar ached from the Dark Lord's emotions. His heart ached for his friends; he managed to get them into trouble again.

"Give me the Prophecy, Potter," Lucius said. "Give it to me, and your friends can go unharmed."

He looked his friends in the eye, one by one, conveying his intent. As one, they cast spells – some hit the enemy, some the shelves, some were cast as distraction. While the Death Eaters were busy swearing or getting up from the floor they managed to run to the door. It came with almost no surprise that it was yet another unknown room – it seemed the doors led to different rooms every time someone opened them.

"We need to separate," Hermione said.

Harry just nodded; he saw the logic in that. Looking around, he could tell that the others came up with the same plan. Take them out one by one. He opened a door, and gestured Ron to go through. Next were Ginny, and then Neville. Luna and Hermione found another door, they were already gone. With a sigh, he opened the door again, and stepped through. It was another room he didn't see – but then again, he hadn't been here before. It seemed this place was huge, with all the rooms around. If he was not mistaken, every room was a research station, dealing with one aspect of magic. He could easily identify the room for Time, and had a good guess which one was dedicated to Death. This room however – just like others – remained a mystery to him. It was not small, but contained the bare minimum of furniture. Judging by the dust, it was rarely used. The room contained a desk, a few chairs and a bookshelf – the newest book seemed hundreds years old. The most unusual thing in this study was a pool. It was in the middle of the room, and took up more than half of the space. What it contained, he couldn't tell; it was as clear as air – he could see the uneven, rocky bottom clearly – yet it was clearly a liquid.

Turning his attention back to the shelf, he had a sudden idea. He picked a random book that wouldn't fall apart from his touch, and put the glowing sphere behind it. He could come back later – or simply ask Dumbledore – but he couldn't let Voldemort have it. When he was satisfied with the arrangement, he walked back to the door, and opened it. With one last glance back, he left to search for his friends. He never noticed the swirl that appeared on the surface of the unnaturally calm substance.

-oOoOo-

It took him five more minutes, but he managed to catch up with the others. He was standing once more at the entrance to the Veil room, trying to understand, what he saw. His friends were fighting, and faring well. Next to them were members of the Order, duelling with the rest. He just spotted Sirius in front of the Veil, when his mind paused. The only thing he could think was _Bloody hell_. Bellatrix had just sent a curse that was sure to kill him, and he didn't even see it! _Damn him, why does he have to play with her?_ He didn't even notice when he slipped into the void. He didn't even notice when a light flared up inside of it. He could not; his entire being wished only one thing: this must not happen. He couldn't lose him.

"This has to stop." The words were uttered so softly, no one should've heard. But they did, all of them did, and to their surprise, they froze where they were. Spells that threatened to hit anyone disappeared, as if they were never cast. The Death Eaters watched him with fear-filled eyes; if he could do this, what else will he do? As if answering their unasked questions, red bolts of light shot from his palm to every enemy, stunning them instantly. The Order's was surprised that one bolt flew toward an empty wall, only to hit an invisible target. The sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard.

Harry knew he was happy. He didn't feel it – the void did not let it affect him – but he was happy nonetheless. Seeing Sirius alive was a huge relief. But he wasn't finished. With a glance, he released everyone, then turned and started to walk down on a spiral stairway. He was surrounded with darkness so deep, so wide, he barely registered how small he really was. He was sure if he slipped, he wouldn't reach the bottom. There was no bottom. At the end of the stairs stood another door; this one led to the top of a mountain. He looked around, finally registering the fact that he could see for miles without aid. _There_, he thought. He heard about giants, of course, but he never saw one until now. They were ugly, resembling a garden gnome more than a human. There were six of them, with a group of men in front, leading the way. The light flared, his fists clenched. The ground exploded; fire rained from the skies; lightning struck. They were all dead within the minute. With a nod to himself, Harry turned and started to climb in the darkness.

-oOoOo-

Harry returned to the Atrium silently. He shouldn't have bothered, no one paid any attention. Every eye was focused on the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort. He looked back sharply when he noticed the Minister. His desire to end this has lessened somewhat, as well as the light, but he was sure he could do a little more before it run out. He hid deeper in the void, drew everything he had in, and attacked. Voldemort screamed a moment later, when his entire left arm erupted in a blazing fire. The fire left nothing behind – not even ashes. Voldemort just stared at his stump, as if he didn't fully comprehend what just happened.

Harry was exhausted by this point. That last attack used up everything he had – the light flared one last time before it burned out. Fortunately the void remained.

"Payback, Tom. It is high time I gave you a scar, don't you think?" Voldemort spun around, and glared at him.

"Stabbing in the back? I'm disappointed in you, Harry. What would your father say to you?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"I'm just playing by your rules, Tom. Weren't you the one to complain about the Gryffindors' stupid nobility? I applaud you; you managed to teach me something."

"We are not done! You will…"

"Pay for this, I will die a horrible death. I know. You are so predictable…" he couldn't finish, Voldemort apparated out. With one last sigh, Harry dropped to the floor unconscious.


	2. Awake

**A/N:** Another chapter. Hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter.

**Chapter 2: Awake**

Harry awoke to the familiar smell of the Hospital wing. He didn't show it outward, of course; he learned how to pretend sleep very early in his life. He was glad he did when he heard the whispering not too far away.

"…we tell him? He will be devastated. He was the only family he had left." The voice was definitely feminine, and as far as he could tell, she was crying recently.

_No, not Sirius. Not him! I saved him!_ His throat constricted, his eyes burned. _That cannot be!_

"I will inform him when the time is appropriate." The Headmaster's voice was unmistakeable. "Let him sleep. He exhausted himself almost completely yesterday."

"Headmaster, _what_ exactly did he do?"

"That, I'm afraid, has to stay between Mr Potter and me. I know you wouldn't tell anyone willingly, but Voldemort has methods to get what he wants. Now, my dear…"

The voices grew distant, but it didn't matter to him. He hoped he got it wrong, and Sirius was still alive, but that meant someone else died. He didn't feel grief, it was all too new and it wasn't even confirmed. His was anxious though; he really hated not knowing. Deciding against waiting, he got up from bed and got dressed. Once he was out of the infirmary – after checking the time, two o'clock – he managed to sneak to Filch's office. There it was – his cloak, his bag, everything he left at Umbridge's office. He made sure nothing went missing, after all, he couldn't trust in the members of the Inquisitorial Squad. Taking the Map from his bag, he searched for an Order member. Tonks on the fourth floor, perfect. Covering himself with his Cloak, he got after Tonks. It wasn't long before he spotted her in one of the classrooms, alone, crying. He took off his Cloak, and silently walked beside her.

"Tonks, what happened?"

"H-Harry? You startled me! It's n-nothing…"

"Don't. If you respect me enough, don't lie to me. I heard you with Dumbledore. Is it Sirius?"

He didn't wait for an answer; it was obvious by her expression. He took a step back, then another, then turning around, he ran out. He heard Tonks' call, but ignored it. He didn't know where he was going, he really didn't care. All he knew was pain, gripping, clawing, twisting pain. He now knew, there was no doubt. Disbelief and hope gave way to despair, anger and sorrow. He felt pressure building inside him, but he couldn't let it out, not here. That was when he glanced up. He was before the Room of Requirement. Without another thought, he entered through the door.

The room was perfect, just like so many times before. It was furnished like a storage room; there were chairs, desks, shelves, porcelains in neat piles. He stepped to one such pile and started to methodically destroy it. He didn't use his wand; it would've been too easy. Splinters flew everywhere. During the destruction – he didn't know when – an axe appeared next to him. He picked it up and continued. He raged, howled, screamed for hours. Every time he destroyed a mound, another would appear. Finally exhausting himself, he dropped himself to the ground, already asleep.

-oOoOo-

He regained consciousness slowly. Opening his eyes, he looked around. _This is definitely not the room I was in._ He was lying on a bed, while sunlight shone through the window. _Where am I?_ Responding to his wishes, the Room changed back to its previous setting, dropping Harry to the floor.

"That answers it. A clock would be nice, you know."

Getting up from the floor, he started his way back to Gryffindor tower. Last night helped him some. He still didn't accept the fact that his Godfather was dead, it was impossible. During his ravage he managed to channel most of his anger into the destruction. Whatever was left behind, he fed it to his determination. It wouldn't do for him to remain angry. He needed a cool head about this if he wanted answers. Giving the password to the Fat Lady, he climbed into the common room. It was still in the morning, despite his interlude with Tonks and the Room. The room was only half full; there were those who enjoyed a little lie-in after the exams, and there were those who chose to spend the day outside. He spotted Ron, Hermione and Ginny at a corner; Neville was sitting at a table away from the others. After a moment of hesitation he chose to sit with him.

"Hi Neville."

"Hi Harry. I'm glad you're okay. Everyone's looking for you, you know. You gave everyone a heart attack when you disappeared. Where were you?"

"I'll tell you later. Tell me, what happened after we parted? I just woke up; I didn't even read the paper."

"We all were rather lucky. We escaped with minor injuries mostly; no one had to stay overnight, like you. I managed to catch up with the rest at the Veil, and then we all went to the elevators. Then we watched the duel between Dumbledore and You-Know-Who, and then you arrived…"

"Yeah, I remember that part. Neville, do you know what happened to Sirius?"

"Well, I heard rumours, but nothing solid. They say Fudge had him Kissed. The paper was already being printed, so he couldn't announce it today. I'm sorry you had to learn it from me."

"Thanks, Neville. I already knew he was... well, I thought him dead. This is actually worse, but thanks." With that, he stood up and walked out from the Common room.

-oOoOo-

The last week of school was filled with work. Not schoolwork, they were done with that after their OWLs. Harry spent all his time in the Room of Requirement, exploring its limits. The room was able to copy every single book in the castle, no matter where they were, and present them to him. The only drawback, as far as he could tell was that these copies only existed within the room, so he couldn't actually keep them. He was most surprised when he managed to call every book from the Headmaster's study. That was a real eye-opener for him; he managed to find several tomes that went missing from the Library. Among these books were tomes about Occlumency, Politics, Ancient Laws and many advanced texts.

Sometimes after his talk with Neville he managed to identify a new emotion: distrust towards the Headmaster. He had no proof, yet he followed his instincts and started to check out the respectable old wizard. He started with his various titles, and what rights and duties they entitled. What he learned shocked him. Sirius could have a trial anytime. It was his _duty_ to oversee the trials. After that, he went over to his own rights and duties, as well as his family's history. Most of what he read was way over his head, but he managed to decipher the significant details. He would need to pay a visit to the goblins.

Of course he knew what he was doing; Hermione even pointed it out to him. He was running from his grief; he buried himself into his work. By the end of the week, he knew a lot more compared to himself. To the knowledge that surrounded him, he knew next to nothing. He had a firm understanding of how Occlumency should work. He had a basic understanding of the Ministry and its Departments, the Wizengamot and the financial world. All week he took notes of the most important facts and book titles that he would have to read, or preferably buy sometime in the future.

-oOoOo-

The dreaded invitation came before the Leaving Feast. He just entered the common room when a little second year gave him a letter with familiar, loopy handwriting.

"Sorry guys, have to go. See you at the Feast, all right?"

"Sure, mate, go on."

He was thinking all the way to the office. Finally deciding, he reached out to the void. He didn't dare do that since the Ministry, for fear of the Power he seemed to possess. But he needed the calm; otherwise he couldn't hide his growing doubt in the Headmaster. To his surprise, it worked. Not the first time, but it worked, and that was all that mattered to him. His emotions, his thoughts were on the edge of his consciousness; he was floating in the void all alone. He became aware of another presence just outside of the edge, but he let it be for now. He could always investigate later. Mumbling the password to the gargoyle, he waited patiently until he reached the door.

"Come in, Harry."

"Afternoon, Headmaster. You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, Harry. First, let me tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Sirius must have been special to you. Believe me, if I could, I would've done something for him."

"Thank you, sir."

"I wanted to speak to you sooner, but I wanted you to have some time before I have to bother you with more bad news. I'm sorry, but you have to go back to your relatives. Molly invited you over the summer, but the blood wards need to be recharged. I promise you I will come to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you sir, I understand. I know you want the best for me." _Wow, I managed to say that with a straight face._

After that, Dumbledore spoke for another ten minutes. He explained his behaviour towards Harry and showed him the prophecy. For his part, he absorbed everything the old man was saying, but considered everything before accepting it as truth.

The moment he stepped out of the office, he let go of the void. That presence kept beckoning him, tempting him, reaching out to him. He was still not ready to face it. Deciding to explore it at another day, he went back to the tower to pack his belongings.


	3. Stalemate

**A/N:** I had a difficult time writing this chapter. I promise there will be more action later.

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter.

**Chapter 3: Stalemate**

The first week of summer was also the worst. He didn't have a problem with his relatives – thanks to the warning they got from Order members – so it should have been his most boring summer of all. The day following his arrival it finally hit home. Sirius was gone. Sure, he knew that, he even destroyed an entire room, but it was still just knowledge. For the next week even the Dursleys saw very little of him. He only got up to eat or go to the bathroom.

At the end of the week he got another surprise – he got sick. It wasn't a usual muggle sickness, nor was it anything he heard from the Wizarding World. Just after lunch, when he got back to his room, he felt dizzy and lightheaded, to the point that he couldn't even sit straight. By evening he felt as if his head was burning up, and he was convinced he was only alive because of Dobby. Acting on a sudden impulse, he bound the little elf to him just before he left Hogwarts. After a restless night Harry awoke feeling refreshed and healthy. That confused him greatly; he was sure his illness was worse than to go away in a single night. Then he remembered Dobby's face and he calmed. _He must have done something while I was sleeping._ He wanted to thank his friend, but they agreed they would meet as little as possible. He was not ready for others to know he was not alone.

Finally his days were getting better. He started to go through his old books, something which would gain surprised looks from his friends. He knew most of the stuff in them thanks to Hermione, but the teachers didn't cover everything, potions being the most prominent. He also studied his notes from the Room of Requirement; he was really glad he did take them. He had a pretty good memory, but the sheer amount of books he read through prevented him from learning it quickly. At each night, just before drifting off to sleep, we'd attempt to clear his mind, using the technique he garnered from his notes. It was only his first step to Occlumency, but it was a step, so he didn't complain.

By July Harry expanded the number of his activities. He now ran regularly; he couldn't run all the way on his intended course yet, but he came closer every day. Two or three times a week, he would even work out. He also declined his family's invitation to meals, choosing to have Dobby drop it by in the morning. His minders were trying to keep up with him outside; there was no risk of him found out.

His time there was not dedicated to learning only; he had his own fun here and there. From time to time, he'd leave out an object and a letter with instructions. Dobby took these to the Weasley twins, who in turn charmed and returned them to him. These were only mild pranks he thought about, and the twins added a time limit, so after a day or two it'd just revert back to an ordinary object. He had them charm the shower head, so that anyone standing beside it would sing in their loudest voice. Then there was the frying pan that switched the taste of the food made in it, or the remote that had everyone fart after touching it. The Dursleys cast him suspicious looks, but with the threat looming over them – and the lack of evidence – they let it go. He also enjoyed badgering Order members on duty. Some of them he could talk to, while others ignored him or sent him away. His favourite was Moody; he was the hardest to sneak upon.

Besides learning and pranking, he used his time to build his case against Dumbledore. He knew he wasn't going to court with this, but he wanted to see clearly wherever the old man was concerned. He was actually surprised at how unaffected he was about all he found. The seeds of distrust that started growing after the ministry finally taken root. He took his time after inspecting every move the old man made; he wanted to think through how much it actually affected him and to come to grips with it. It'd not be good to explode out of anger and give himself away.

His latest goal was to learn about his finances from the Goblins. He sent a letter explaining who he was and what he wanted, including a drop of his blood. Of course he dried it before he sent the letter; he didn't want it to be used for other purposes. Their response pleased him. As it turned out, he owned three vaults. His trust vault, which he knew about, held enough money for his tuition and other needs. The second, the Potter family vault held enough money for him to live for a few years without the need to work. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The third vault was Lily's own vault. It held some money, but more importantly, his mother's possessions. As he looked through the list of items stored there, he figured that everything saved from their house fifteen years ago was there as well. The list of withdrawals didn't contain anything out of the ordinary; he was glad that the Headmaster at least didn't steal from him. The goblins also informed him about a legal loophole. Because Sirius' body was still alive – albeit without a soul – they cannot execute his will unless asked by the main beneficiary: him. He had no intention of forcing the issue; there'd be too many questions about it.

Aside from his two friends he only got a letter today from the Headmaster, stating that he could leave tomorrow – on his birthday. Dumbledore would get him personally, and after a little detour, take him to the Burrow. With little else to do, he opted to practice his control over his emotions. He slipped into the void (he could do that now almost anytime), and was almost swept away. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered the presence that haunted him since the ministry, but his focus was on staying firm against the onslaught. As he pushed back against the invading force, he wondered what'd happen to him if he lost. After a moment – which felt hours to him – he reached a stalemate. He couldn't push it further, nor could it submerge him. Power started to build between the struggling opponents; power he was sure would damage him if he didn't channel away. The back garden came to his mind; it was a relatively large space, between his house and the neighbours. The power within him shifted; it no longer built inside, rather it flowed through him. It was marvellous. It felt as if the essence of _life_ itself was filling him, and he soaked it up, damn the consequences. When he opened his eyes, he got another surprise; he could see everything in the finest detail. The colours were more vivid; the shapes more defined. In his wonder he didn't pay attention to the struggle for control within him; he was engulfed almost completely. In his desperation, he didn't push against it; rather he pushed away from it. With one last painful twist, it was gone. The world around him paled, life seemed to be just an imitation. He felt hollow without this power. Feeling exhausted, he decided to go to sleep and think about this tomorrow.

-oOoOo-

His first week at the Burrow passed quickly. Between catching up with his friends, learning about what happened at the summer and playing there was not much time for himself. He hid everything connected to his extra studies and Dumbledore; it was a little hard, but he managed.

On Sunday everyone had dinner together. The twins came over from their flat above the shop, while Mr. Weasley came home early. Even if no one talked about it, they could all see the war's effect on him. After the meal, he decided to mess with the twins' head while get some work done.

"Gred, Forge! Can I speak to you for a second?"

"Sure, partner."

"Not here," he whispered back. He started to climb upstairs, and stopped at their old room.

"So, what do you need?" asked Fred once the door was closed.

"Firstly I wanted to thank you for your work. I enjoyed the little payback."

"Don't mention it."

"It was the least we could do."

"But there's more, isn't there?"

"Well, yeah." He put on a worried expression. "I recently acquired blackmail material over a few individuals. I want payment for my silence, but, you see, I don't have practice in it. I thought you could help. It is hard to get something compromising from them, so I'd like not to screw this up."

"If you don't mindus asking…"

"…who are these individuals?"

"Actually, you are." Their eager expressions turned to guarded.

"And, pray tell…"

"…what do you have on us? More importantly…"

"…what do you want for your silence?"

"I can prove that you deliberately failed your OWLs. You know, so you could have more time for invention." They paled slightly, so he continued. "Now I understand that you continued working on your product here in the summer. I want to know how to circumvent the Ministry and do magic."

Of course, he didn't have any evidence, but their reaction was all the confirmation he needed. The risk he took paid off; it'd have been embarrassing to guess it wrong. After a minute of silent conversation they seemed to come to a decision.

"You know we will have to retaliate? We cannot have…"

"…people running about, blackmailing, or…

"…pranking us. But at least you can defend yourself."

"Don't worry about me, just do your worst. I promise I will."

"It isn't well known, but the Ministry cannot tell who cast the spell, only where. There is a Trace on every child below seventeen that goes off if someone uses a spell. You'll only get a letter if you use magic in a muggle area. Otherwise, you're safe."

"You mean to tell me that I could practice the entire time I was here?"

"Pretty much. We discovered it before our third year. We didn't tell anyone because Mum'd just take away our wands."

"Well, thank you. I'll expect the retaliation sometime next week. Be safe!" With that he calmly walked out of the room, thinking about possible pranks to pull on his partners.


End file.
